Lessons From Albania: We Are Not Defined By Our Flaws

Today marks two weeks since I’ve been in Albania. As I write this I’m at the Valza Boutique Hotel in Vlore. I have mountains to my left and the sea to my right. I’m privileged enough to be in a beautiful, air-conditioned room with reliable wifi and a killer breakfast. Yesterday I couldn’t help but laugh out loud because while I was laying on the beach overlooking the Adriatic Sea, I remembered two months ago when I told people at home I was quitting my job so I could solo travel to Albania. They scowled, hardly anyone was supportive of my decision and if they were it was out of pity. Despite everyone’s discouragement and probing questions as to why I would ever leave my higher-than-average salary to be alone in a developing country, I went anyway. My first day in Albania was probably one of the most challenging I have yet to experience, (and as someone who has solo traveled 6 different countries in the last year, I can assure you I have encountered many difficulties). The second I landed, I was bright-eyed and smiling ear to ear. This maybe lasted an entire 2 hours when all of a sudden I realized my cell phone wasn’t working. Even though my hostel was a ten-minute walk from the bus station, it took me close to four hours to find it, being that I had no service. Finally, I arrive at my hostel, eager to meet other travelers and make friends (one of the only reasons I chose to stay at a hostel in the first place), and to my dismay, instead of being welcomed with open arms, the people were uninterested in hearing my story or greeting me with any semblance of warmth.

Going from Italy where I had friends and a family to accompany me to Albania was a rough transition. Not only do I speak zero Albanian other than a few useless words (I love you, stupid) the women of Tirana weren’t overjoyed that I was there. Instead of smiling back at me or entertaining my attempts to cultivate a friendship, my friendly gestures were returned with dirty, scolding looks and judgment. I felt alone and ready to go home. Everyone was right, I shouldn’t have come here… feeling dumb and defeated, I started searching for flights. This was starting to feel too much like Athens all over again. Discouragement enveloped me and I went to sleep in my small, stiff hostel bed hoping for a better tomorrow

Tomorrow came quickly when I was woken at 6 AM by the sound of a rooster and sunshine glaring into my eyes. Welcome to Albania you foolish bitch. This is what you get for wanting to come here. Sigh, I thought. Luckily, my rough patch took a turn when I met a fellow New Yorker at my hostel. Never have I ever been so excited and relieved to speak with someone from New York. Over the next couple of days, I met some cool people and actually found I was spending more time with others than I was by myself. I felt a craving for alone time after going on back-to-back benders for nearly a week, living off coffee and Aperol spritz

What struck me most about Tirana was the people living there, particularly the women. Never have I ever seen so many Instagram baddies in one location, all at the same time. Am I in Albania or LA? I wondered. Trying not to be a creep, I couldn’t help but stare and simultaneously envy their petite frame, hourglass form, doe eyes, and button noses with Angelina Jolie lips. Their eyebrows were perfect, and so was their hair. I've never felt more unappealing than I have when walking through the streets of Tirana. I mean seriously though, compared to these women I was an actual swamp monster. Immediately I began looking up cosmetic procedures and medical spa centers in the area since I heard it was more affordable here than the States. I was determined to transform from this sasquatch creature into an Albanian model, so I fit in with all the girls. One night, I said to my friend “Do you think I’m ugly?” No, why? He said. “Well, I feel like something is very wrong with me.” How come? “I don’t know, I want to be like the rest of the girls here. I don’t look like them” but you’re beautiful, he answered. Everywhere we go, all the men stop and look at you. “But what good is it to be beautiful if nobody loves you?” I replied. “So you think if you got surgery then somebody would love you?” No, I told him, I know that's not true…

You see, I know deep down being beautiful doesn’t make you special, but for some reason, I can’t help but compare myself to gorgeous women and as a result, feel immensely inadequate and inferior to my core. I’m tall, not pocket-sized, I’m shaped more like Serena Williams than I am Kim Kardashian, my legs are covered in cellulite and I have an overbite with uneven eyelids. When people ask what my favorite feature is I can honestly say the only thing I like are my feet. And yet…

Something interesting happened here in Albania, that made me rethink everything I thought about myself. While walking (quite literally any and everywhere I go), people keep coming up to me and asking for my Instagram. I don’t say this to toot my own horn, I know being pretty is not a talent. I say it to make a point. Here I am, with blemishes, twice the size of these girls and chafing thighs yet dudes keep asking me out. But why? Look at all these 10s, what would anyone want to do with ME? After consideration, they all said something along the lines of… “you have such great energy, your vibe is good, you have a big smile, you seem like a kind person, you’re the only woman that has been friendly, you made me laugh, you look happy, no female has ever said thank you before (from a waiter).” There you have it folks, and none of this had to do with my cheekbones or eyelashes. You can be the baddest bitch in the room or you can be the sweetest, see which gets you further ladies…

With that being said, I recognize self-worth can not be attained with Botox or filler. True confidence can not be bought with a boob job or BBL. Sure, these things can draw attention and make men want to sleep with you, but at the end of the day, a positive attitude and open heart will attract higher-quality people than a spray tan and acrylic nails. This brings me to part of the reason why I adore this country so much because maybe, it reminds me of myself in so many ways. Albania is misunderstood, with a tumultuous past. Its history is one of destruction, dismay, and heartache. It has been broken and damaged and at one point, had everything ripped from it. Even still, it remains resilient, selfless, and strong. It doesn’t try hard to be something it’s not and isn’t the most extravagant or glamorous place I’ve been. At the same time, despite its hardships and trauma, it’s beautiful. This is how I want to think of myself because that's how I feel most days. I trust it's why Albania is so special to me because, despite its imperfection and maybe even because of it, it is incredibly valuable and deeply loved.

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